


if you give me some time

by orphan_account



Category: Football RPF
Genre: BVB, Borussia Dortmund, Football, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 18:48:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3739570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a notice me senpai!! fic for the boob crew</p>
            </blockquote>





	if you give me some time

The ball connects solidly with the side of his toes and curls into the net with a neat little swoosh. “Nice one, Auba!” Marco calls from the sideline, his hands cupped around his face, eyes and mouth crinkled into a wicked grin.

Kevin steps up to take the next free-kick, and glances briefly at his Gabonese teammate as he jogs over to the German for a high-five. He feels the nerves kick in – but it’s just practice, he reminds himself, it’s just practice, and the plastic figures aren’t real people, but he can feel Marco’s eyes on him as he plants his foot and swings –

He makes it in, right into the perfect spot, and even the goalie knows there’s no chance of saving it. He pumps a fist into the air and lets out a triumphant yell, satisfied with what he’s accomplished, even if it is just training.

Kevin turns, his expression eager and hopeful, and only looks for one person. And they do meet eyes, for a heartbeat, before Marco’s lips twitch a little and he turns away and mumbles something to Pierre, who laughs and blatantly glances at Kevin.

Kevin’s face falls, and he slumps his shoulders a little as he shuffles over to the next exercise.

* * *

  _i got this need for you_

* * *

The first time they spoke to each other, Marco had been bright and full of smiles. The German had been someone he'd admired for a while, and Kevin shivered in anticipation at the prospect of being able to play with _the_  Marco Reus.

And the first time they’d touched was only supposed to be a friendly, welcoming hug and pat on the back, but the other man had disentangled himself as quickly as possible, jerking back his hand. The momentary contact of skin sent an entirely different kind of shiver throughout Kevin's entire body, raising every goosebump on his limbs, but the imprint of Marco's fingertips had burned where they'd touched the base of his neck.

* * *

_forming in my beating heart_

* * *

When he was in Salzburg, the roaring of the fans each time his foot touched the ball would have sent adrenaline pumping through his body and he would've charged towards goal, his mindset centered completely on attacking, scoring for his own personal glory.

But in Dortmund, it was different. Now all he could do was to immediately look for Marco. Was he open? - could he give a good pass? - Marco would have to notice him if he kept making brilliant passes to him, right?

At one point in the game, he finds himself alone with the ball, only the goalie between himself and the goal after a defender mistimes a tackle and Kevin manages to leap over his flying body. _Goal. Shoot,_ his mind tells him, but in the corner of his eye he can see Marco racing through the middle.

And of course Kevin elects to slide the pass to him, and it's an easy shot as the German rockets it past the keeper and the net swells with the effort of keeping the ball in.

He feels as giddy as if he's scored the goal himself, and runs towards Marco to celebrate. But as soon as he approaches his teammate, Marco's genuinely delighted expression takes on an arrogant look. He smirks, and turns and embraces Pierre instead.

The shock and hurt is evident on Kevin's face even though he tries to hide it as he accepts the congratulations of the other players who have come to crowd around them, and he can only stare in disbelief at Marco's back as they run back to take up their positions.

* * *

_i knew the meaning right away_

* * *

“Fuck you."

The words foul the air as Kevin pushes past Marco in the dressing room. He doesn't mean for it to be laced with such venom at first, but then he decides that he's done with trying to impress Marco. Why did he even want to in the first place? His opinion didn’t matter on the field, and he’d clearly never get the other player’s approval. 

He can feel Marco’s stare on him as he walks away, though, and the skin at the base of his neck stings.

No one else seems to notice and the words dissipate among the rest of the players' chatter. Except for the Dortmund captain, whose job was to keep a keen eye for personal problems between players.

* * *

_we only yesterday were worlds apart_

* * *

Mats addresses the team's performance as he always does before everyone leaves, but he stops Marco and Kevin after he's done. "Not you two," he says sternly. "You guys are gonna stay here and work out whatever's between you before you leave."

Marco, still attempting to put on clothes, immediately opens his mouth to protest, but the captain doesn't want to hear any of it. The slam of the door echoes in the empty dressing room as the captain leaves, and both players stand there alone, a stifling awkwardness invading the space.

The German continues to ignore him as he gathers his belongings. He doesn't have a shirt on, and Kevin's mouth goes a little dry and he tries not to stare at his pale, well-muscled back that slopes down into a slim waist and a _wonderful_ ass as he bends over -

Marco finally cuts the silence. "This is bullshit. I have nothing to say to someone like you. Leave," he states frostily, zipping up a bag, and at that point Kevin feels the indignance start to simmer in his chest.

"Well I've fucking got something to say to you!"

He doesn't even realize he's shouting.

“I see you all the time celebrating with Pierre, and with Shinji, and literally everyone else but you can’t even make yourself give half a shit about me! And I fucking set up the most fucking brilliant ball for you to score today when I should’ve taken the shot myself! I’m your teammate too, you can’t just fucking blow me off like that in front of so many people! What the hell -” fuck, he could feel his composure breaking, his voice cracking ever so slightly “- did I ever do to you?”

Kevin tries to look defiant, eyebrows creased downwards, but he can’t stop himself from fearing the worst, and his lips tremble ever so slightly. He wanted to be able to ignore Marco, but for whatever reason he craved his attention, his approval, and now the one person he wanted most was going to distance himself even more.

“Shut the fuck up,” comes the unexpected reply, and Marco’s voice is now low and throaty and fierce and now hot with anger. “You really don’t know what you fucking _do to me_?”

Kevin opens his mouth to reply just as angrily but is unceremoniously cut short as his teammate lunges forward.

And suddenly the Slovenian is shoved roughly against the wall, jarring his shoulder. Marco’s hands are fisted tightly in the hair at the back of his head and his lips open in a bruising, hungry kiss, tongue slick and heavy against his own, and Kevin is arching his body into Marco’s and his hands are are suddenly wrapped up around his bare back and fingernails are carving half-moon marks into his shoulder and clawing at his skin and their hips are rolling desperately together and it is the most delicious thing he’s ever experienced.

Just as suddenly it's over. Marco lifts his face away so that there's a whisper of space between their lips and they're both panting like they've just sprinted the length of the field five times over. Kevin's heart is erratically throbbing in this throat and there is definitely another kind of throbbing below his stomach.

The heat of embarrassment rises to his cheeks because he knows that Marco can feel it through the thin fabric of his shorts with their bodies so close like this, and also because of the thoughts that come to his head, of how much he would like it if Marco shifted his thigh, or even better if he moved his hands downward -

But the winger's hands continue to firmly grasp the sides of his face, and his green eyes are smoldering. His breath is hot on Kevin's face as he starts to speak.

"Do you get it?" he asks, hoarsely, "I would devour you if I could."

" _Please_ ," Kevin says softly, blushing harder at the idea, and his voice catches so that it's almost a whimper.

He can hear Marco draw in a deep breath, before abruptly pushing himself away. "No," Marco finally sighs. "I can't."

Kevin leans against the wall - he doesn't trust his legs to support him just yet - and watches silently as his teammate hurriedly grabs his bags. The angry red marks on his back are covered by a black tee. Just before he opens the door to leave, he pauses, and without turning around, says, "Stay away from me."

But it's not in the same clipped tone that he's always used, and Kevin can hear that it's raw and tormented and that he desperately, desperately didn't mean it, not really.

* * *

_with you i’m in warm water swimming down_

* * *

Kevin stays alone for a minute or so, trying and failing to collect his thoughts as he drowns in feelings of confusion and frustration and anger and arousal. Finally he musters the strength to move and push himself off the wall.

He would need a lot of time to sort through his feelings for Marco now.

But first he needs to find somewhere more private and dream of that kiss.


End file.
